Dancing with the Big Boys
by Swiveling Sharpies
Summary: During the filming of the movie, Kenny needs a new dance instructor. And the only one he’ll hire is me. After all, I’m the best there is.
1. A new job

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but Juli. Although owning the newsies would be funn…

Summery: during the filming of the movie, Kenny needs a new dance instructor. And the only one he'll hire is me. After all, I'm the best there is.

I have actually no clue where the filming took place but I'll guess California because it's all Hollywoodish. I could look it up butI'm so gosh-darn lazy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I packed my remaining Pointe shoe into my loosely sewn bag and grabbed my key off the coffee table. Swinging the bag over my shoulder I slammed the door behind me and heaved a sigh.

Alright, here we go.

Today was the start of my new teaching job. It's not like I've haven't done it before. Only this time it was with a bunch of kids. A bunch of _boys _. Boys who had no clue of what a pirouette or a plie' was. Well what Kenny wants, Kenny gets. Just think bright thoughts. Ok that was lame. Think of the money then. Yes the money. The sweet dough that pays the rent. Keep that thought.

Coming off of the murky bus I sauntered right into the production studio only to be met by two beer gut security guards. A lovely sight, really.

"Excuse me miss, only authorized personal only from this point on," one of them stated

"Well excuse me sir," I said mocking him, "I happen to be authorized personal. I'm the new dance teacher"

He took a few moments too look me over. The palm of my hand started to shake ever so slightly with an urge to slap his bald chubby face. He had a stupid grin on his face while he walked around me in a circle to judge whether or not I really was a dancer. I could almost feel his beady little eyes on my ass. Out of habit, I gnawed on the corner of my lip.

"Well I don't know. What do you think Rob?" said the guy whose eyes were still settled on my butt.

Keep your cool Juli. Think of the pay. It'll be worth it.

Rob snickered inwardly. "By the looks of her," he gave me the elevator eyes. "She most-surely looks like 'authorized personal'." And with that he burst out laughing.

"Could you 'gentlemen' just let me through?" I spat. Still trying to keep my cool.

"I gotta check with Kenny. Give me a moment darling."

The nameless security guard walked away from me a few steps and pulled out his walkie-talkie. After loosing the staring contest with this Rob guy, he came back.

"Kenny says it's alright. Go on ahead."

I kept my chin up as he held open the gate for me and sticking out his hand as to show me the direction. Oh how I wanted to wipe that smile off his face. I said nothing and walked by them both, my eyes looking straight forward.


	2. The Intros

b Ok sorry for the late update but here it is.

Thanks for all the reviews

Because of the warnings that I got for the "real person" story I'll have the actors use their newsie names. I'll call Kenny "Kenneth" now just so…well…I dunno. Just because of the real person thing even though Kenneth isn't really a difference. Oh well. Thanks for the alert pennylayne and Rustie73!

To add to the Racetrack heritage debate, (is there even a debate?) in my story, he's Italian. Deal with it

And for the set up of things in the story, I'm playing it by ear…so I'm mainly making it up.

Enjoy. /b

I walked past security and the big traditional Hollywood gates into the set, looking for Kenneth. You'd think with me being his niece, he'd give me directions or at least a "You are Here" map, but no. I'm winging it.

The set looked like typical NYC…in 1899 I mean. Cobblestone brick like streets with shops all around it. Once you walked into a shop, you'd then literally walk into microphones, wires, speakers, and the whole shebang. I kept my distance away from it all and any other people who were working with them.

I hung a right turn looking for anyone that looked important and, lucky me, there was an old, beaten down warehouse with the words "Studio" plastered right above the doorway.

I opened the door to find an unbelievable amount of nothing. Well not quite nothing. Mainly junk. Dusty crates, ladders, a basketball hoop on one end, and piles and piles of dust on the cement floor.

Ew

Grabbing my kerchief, I shook out the wrinkles and laid it down on a not-so dusty crate. Then I carefully placed my bag down on top of it. So I'm a neat freak. Sue me.

The door opened with a creak and I turned to find Kenneth holding a few papers in his hands.

"There you are," he exclaimed, "I've been waiting for you. O.K. Here are your papers,"

He handed me a few and I saw that most of them were covered in dots, lines, lots of French writing…

Routines.

"..And here is your clipboard. All you need to know about the dances and the actors is on it." He added with a grin.

"Alright simple enough. When are all of the um…guys coming?" I asked.

"Well..." he checked his watch, "they're in recording right now so they'll be here in about 20 minutes. Sound good?"

"Sounds good." I agreed.

Yeah right.

"Hey Juliana," I hate it when he uses my full name, "You know I do really appreciate you helping me out right? It's just with directing the show i and /i choreographing, it is just too much for me."

"Yeah I know uncle. It's no problem." I replied

And besides, the great wad of cash is a plus.

"Alright I've gotta get back. There are doughnuts and fruit over by the statue in the middle of the set. Help your self. Mingle a little alright?" He said with a slight grin.

"Hah you got it." I flashed him a rare grin of my own.

With that, he left. I looked over my list and was surprised to see about 20 to 30 guys on the clipboard.

That many? Oh geez.

C.Bale was the first one at the top of the list. The star of the show I figured.

I looked over the routines. Pretty simple. The flips and jumps are going to be the only tough thing.

I take that back.

Getting them to shut up and cooperate is going to be the toughest thing.

Doing a few stretches, I put on my Pointe shoes and started doing basic steps and leaps. Not too hard. I absolutely love it when I dance. The music with the movements is always so beautiful on the professionals and I always imagine I'm one of them even while I'm doing something as simple as warming up. Sounds silly and it's hard to put into words and actually have it make sense, but dancing is what I do and I couldn't picture my life without it.

Whoops. Getting sidetracked. I heard the door open and with the stream of light that poured in came a bunch of rowdy, loud, immature boys.

O.K. Don't freak. This'll be easy.

"Alright everyone quiet down and form a group right over here." I said, pointing over to the middle of the room.

"My name is Juli or Miss Morgan, which ever you prefer. (Morgan being my last name. Duh) I'm going to be your dance instructor since Ken can't handle it all. We'll be working with each other for the next 20 weeks so we'll make this as fun and painless (haha yeah right) as possible. Those who have dance experience will help those who don't. Any social problems between anyone and they'll be out of here faster than you can rond de jambe back attitude leap. Any questions?"

Pat yourself on the back for the attitude leap reference later, Juli. Make sure they know whose boss around here.

I was met with a lot of confused and blank stares.

Just perfect.

"No? Alright moving on," I glanced down at my clipboard. "C.Bale, where are you?"

No response.

"Um…C.Bale?" I asked again.

I saw one solitary hand shoot up in the back of the group. Please oh please let this be the mystery C.Bale person

"Um...uh...miss?" Said the boy with his hand up.

"Yes?"

"We don't particularly call each other by our mother given names." He stuttered.

"Well why not?" I asked slightly annoyed.

"We like to go by our newsie names. You know the names we're given for the movie?"

"Well what do they call you?"

"I go by Kid Blink. Or just plain old Blink." He said.

He swung an eye patch around his finger to show the meaning of his nickname. I got it. He had a kind of dirty blonde hair and was not too bad looking. Actually a lot of these boys were pretty handsome. No! Focus! Think of the money think of the money.

"Well plain old Blink, come over here for a minute."

He shuffled his feet while walking and kept his eyes fixed on the ground as if he was on his death march.

"Here," I said handing him the clipboard and a pen, "write down everyone's 'Newsie Name' next to their real name."

While he was writing I turned back to the group to find a lot of eyes focused on me. Some acting the same as the security guards and a few uneasy eyes as if they were confused on what to look at in the room.

Blink handed me back the clipboard and took a few steps back into the group.

"Alright…Jack Kelly? Where are you?" I asked.

"Ah right here." He responded.

A handsome guy with kind of sleeked back blondish hair came forward in the most obscure outfit I'd laid eyes on. Bright green sweat pants rolled down to their length with bright orange tube socks covering them at his ankles and white tennis shoes. He had on one of those "Love to Hate" t-shirts on. It was bright orange to match his socks.

He looked like a damn pumpkin.

I continued to take roll until I got through the list, occasionally laughing at the oddness of the names.

Itey…Spot…Mush…Crutchy were just a few.

"O.K. Everyone form three lines. Make sure you can still see me. Start off with a toe touch." I instructed.

I bent down to touch my toes to show the boys how to do it. It's like a second nature. You reach down; touch your toes, no pain.

I received moans and groans on how 'it hurts' and 'I better be getting well paid for this'. I couldn't believe it. Five minutes with these guys and they're already complaining. Well buck-up campers. It's all downhill from here.

b Hate it? Love it? Reviews are appreciated. Sorry if I couldn't catch a few spelling or grammar mistakes. No ones perfect right? Any type of feedback is welcome I'll try to update ASAP but I have soccer tryouts coming up and the procrastinating came with the DNA. /b


	3. Something New

Yes, it might seem impossible, but I AM alive. A lot's been going on, but here's the next chapter. It's short, but I already have the chapter after that half written too.

* * *

Weeks have past and, By George!, they were starting to get it. Still moaning and groaning but now they at least have a small sense of rhythm. A very small sense. 

Routines were hard and we practice for about 4 hours at a time, starting at 5 or 6 in the morning. Trust me. I am not a morning person. You crossing me at 5 in the morning would be vaguely similar to crossing the lion's feeding time at the zoo. Not a pretty sight.

This morning was different. After the normal 50 push-up, 50 sit-up warm-up, (I skillfully pretended I lost my purse during this time. Pierce Brosnan would be proud) some crew members brought in the barrels for the Carrying The Banner number.

Oh boy. This could get interesting.

"Hey guys," I yelled, "do ten more push-ups."

They would need all the upper body strength they could get.

* * *

Yes, very short i know. But, I'll add the next chapter either tonight or tomorrow. 


	4. Barrels and an Invitation

**The new update, as promised. Reviews would be lovely.**

* * *

The barrels. Those things I've been dreading for who knows how long? The fact that we'd have to maneuver around them and jump on and off of them would actually require brain power from these kids.

Ok. So maybe they're a little older than kids. Some more than others. And, let me catch my breath, when the take their shirts off when it gets warmer in the studio, turn on the fan, it gets even hotter. Those kids weren't little boys anymore.

And maybe they're a little smarter than average kids too. Especially with their smart remarks.

View Example:

"Hey Juli!"  
"Yeah Les?"  
"Your mom."

Oh burn.

"Just set them over here guys, thanks." I said to the barrel crew. I glanced back over the routine for the barrel jumping and with a deep breath quickly started to do it. Spin, jump over, one, two, one two, run, run, jump, somersault off of the last barrel.

Whew.

"Ok so that's basically how it's going to be, only you'll do it in a ripple. Got it?"

I turned around to find everyone's mouth agape.

I don't think they got it.

"You know what? Let's take a 10 minute break instead. And by 10, I mean 20." I called over to them.

They're not ready and neither am I.

Back to those kids who are a little older than kids. Darn mind. It can't focus on anything. I've actually taken a liking to them. Besides all of their smart remarks and the way they think a girls eyes are planted on her chest, the guys aren't all that bad. You can start to feel a brother bond between each of them. Even that Spot kid who just kind of hangs in the back, leaning against the wall and doesn't dance. Socially inclined? Maybe.

One time, the guys actually took crumpled up newspapers, hundreds of them, and stuffed Uncle Ken's trailer with them. He couldn't even get in it He didn't mind, thankfully. Have you ever seen Kenny get mad before? There's not much difference from that and a bomb-dodging course in the Army

"Hey Juli, we're going gout for pizza after rehearsal tonight if you want to come?" Spot called over to me. So maybe he's not as socially inclined as I thought. But, pizza? When in the world was the last time I had that steamy calorie-packed slice of goodness?

"I'd love to," I called back.

Mmmm…pizza.

* * *


	5. And they're off!

**Ok so I like my chapters short and my descriptions limited. The rest is up to your imagination. Thanks for the reviews :)

* * *

**

Break's over. Back to work. Back to those barrels. It's now or never.

"Ok guys, seriously, we have to start this mini-routine, so I need…" I paused to look at my clipboard, "…Mush, Blink, Dutchy, Bumlets, and anyone else who is brave enough. Now here's the routine once again, we'll take it step by step."

They looked like they had a little more confidence. Strangely…I did too. This couldn't be all that hard. I was even a little (dare I say it?) excited. Plus there was the cash bonus Ken decided to give me because of my quote-unquote "overtime". I had begun to stay until after the dancing part of the day was over and I hung out with some of the guys. Ken thinks I'm going over routines with them, but we just lay back and relax in the studio. He'll never know.

I did the first part of the routine in slow-mo for the poor adolescents with little rhythm. I got a few nods in return. Not bad. At least they understood it. Well, I hope.

"Ok lets see it. One by one. Ready? 5,6,7,8 and one, two, step-up, cross-over, seven, eight. Good! Again!"

We went over the rest of it and in due time, they actually got it. What was this really cool reeling? Pride? Accomplishment? Whatever it was, I liked it. I knew right then and there from the smiling faces of these kids and their friends that we could do this. One step at a time.

The ones not in the barrel scene were busy playing basketball with the old shoddy hoop so I used my awesome authority to do something pretty cruel and relentless if I do say so myself.

"Alright 10 laps around the perimeter. No slackers! Barrel group, you sit out. Ready? Go!" I yelled.

I was met with bulging eyes and open mouths.

"What are you standing around for?" I shouted with a slight smile, "Run!"

And they were off.

* * *

**Reviews would be dandy as candy.**


	6. Pizza Anyone?

**I'm off for Spring Break. Miss me.

* * *

**

"And it's David in the lead with Cowboy on his heels. It's going to be a close one folks and-Oho! Look who's fighting in the back! It's Racetrack Higgins Vs. The Mighty Les Jacobs. Neither want last place. Lap 9 everyone, one more to go, and the boys are looking pretty winded. Here they come around the last bend. It'll be a photo finish! The checkers are up and the winner is…

Crutchy?

Crutchy!

Yes ladies and gentlemen, or in this case just gentlemen, we have a winner! Now Mr. Crutch, if I may call you that, what gave you the motivation for that final burst of energy to cross the finish line?"

"We-well," he gasped "I-I guess your pretty face just gave me that extra zing,"

I laughed nervously.

"Haha, well um, thanks Crutchy," I felt a blush creeping up my neck. Crap. I hate it when I blush; it's so obvious.

Fortunately, Jack came to my rescue. "So uh, are we'se all goina go fa pizza or not? 'Cause I'se starving," he said in a horrible New York accent.

A mix of grunts and nods showed him that everyone else was ready to go too.

"What about you Juli? You're still coming right?" Spot asked.

Oh you bet, good-lookin.

"I am if the offer still stands. Where's this infamous pizza parlor?" I asked.

"Not too far from here," Racetrack replied, "it's a place downtown called Zak's Snacks. They serve the best pizza pie in L.A."

Oh no. Oh no no no no. Anywhere but there.

"Last one to the limo is a rotten beet!" Boots yelled.

"You mean an egg!" the boys yelled back.

A limo? Well…maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

**Review. Please and thanks :)**


	7. Shirley Temples

**Here's the new one. It's longer than usual but I had some time. Enjoy.

* * *

**

Three words: Limos are awesome.

Well almost. They're awesome when they're not packed with teenage boys, all of whom were trying to sit next to me for more than obvious reasons.

I had changed out of my dance wear and put on something a little more casual. I had my khaki "Who wears short shorts?" shorts on with a white camisole and a pink stripped wrap top. I thought I looked okay; the guys seemed to think so too. Well my camisole wasn't showing off anything, that's for sure. I'm quite proud of my A-cups thank you very much. My wavy brown curls were tied up with a loose hair scrunchy.

Here we are; Zak's Snacks. Why here? Zak's pizza isn't all that great. I should know. I taught him how to make it! Well thank you, dear brother, for stealing the family recipe from Nonnie and selling it in Los Angels for 10 dollars a copy. What a silly brother I have. Little Zaky doesn't realize that someone will make another Pizza Parlor, sell the same pizza for a lower price and put him in the poor house. Brilliant Zak, brilliant.

All of the boys filed into the parlor like a horde of ants. Jack and David hooked arms with me, sat me down at a booth in the back and then proceeded to fight over who would get to sit next to me. Darn boys.

"Boys, boys, there is a simple way to settle this," I said. They gave me their attention before we were about to have a West Side Story reoccur.

"Hey Spot!" I called over to him, "Come sit by me." I said. Oh the times I wish I had a camera. The looks on those two boys' faces were worthy enough to be on AFV. Spot smiled and slid into the booth next to me.

Out came the waiters, out came the funny blow-up pizza hats, and out came the brother wearing the funny blow-up pizza hat. Oh no. If fate would have it, Zak came to our table first. My big hazel eyes were suddenly very interested in the cars rushing past outside on the freeway. Maybe he wouldn't recognize me. It _has_ been a few years. Four years to be exact. Maybe if I'm lucky---

"Juli?" asked Zak.

Lady Luck, you were _not_ a lady tonight.

"Hey there Zak, um, I'll have a slice of the Italian sausage and a Shirley Temple if you've got it," I said with the slightest hint of uneasiness in my voice. Well maybe it was a little more than just uneasy. That throw-up feeling was inching up my throat but I pushed it back down. There stood Zak, his mouth hanging slightly open and big black eyes, almost like mine, seemed to be bulging out of his thick skull. He took off that ridiculous hat and ran his fingers through a mess of black hair.

"What are you---," he started, but I cut him off.

"Extra cherries in that Shirley Temple, please," I said matter-o-factly.

"We don't have Shirley Temples here," he said through clenched teeth.

"Oh no?" I shot at him, "Well then just a Coke will be fine."

Zak blinked a good number of times before he swallowed and continued to take everyone else's orders. I could hear him cussing under his breath as he left. Our Italian heritage thrust an unhealthy language upon all of our family, unfortunately.

"What was _that_ all about?" David asked perplexed.

"What was what all about?" I asked, playing along. I straightened out my napkin and grabbed a pen out of my purse for placemat doodling: my favorite pastime.

"You and him?" David persisted.

"That's Zak, my dear older brother,"

"How come you didn't say you had a brother?" Jack asked.

"Because no one asked. It's not a big deal," I said looking around at each of them. "Really," I insisted.

"I didn't see too much sibling love right there," Spot pointed out.

"Well maybe there isn't much love at the moment. Okay David. I'm X's, you're O's. You go first," I said as I passed him my placemat.

That _wasn't_ such a big deal, was it? Zak needs to get his act together if I keep coming here with the guys. My act was perfectly pleasant. He leaving was his own fault anyway. Oh look, pizza's here. Zak isn't our waiter anymore, though I'm not surprised. The new waitress gave us our pizza and drinks and in front of me she placed a Shirley Temple. Extra cherries.

Well, maybe he _has_ changed. But only a little.

* * *

**Review. Anyone notice the Guys and Dolls reference? I'm pretty sure I had a Pulitzer quote in there too.**


End file.
